Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes
by kqzw
Summary: Anna Peterson, of Earth, 2016, time-travels and universe-hops to Amestris, 1914. She takes it upon herself to develop a hero-complex and start mucking about with canon. A happy little self-indulgent, OC-centric, SI-style, fix-it fic. (Well, "happy" is a strong word. Don't take that label too seriously.)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to my shitty self-insert (except it's not me) fanfiction. (Practically everyone that writes self-inserts claims it's not them, so you can choose to believe me or not.)**

**This is a completely unoriginal take on the classic Modern-Girl-in-Amesteris story! MGIA? Are there enough shitty self-inserts in this fandom for it to have an abbreviation? That's not to say that every self-insert is shitty, I wouldn't write this stuff if I didn't enjoy every SI story I've ever read. It's an endearing term. I have a very large soft spot for self-inserts. They're my not-so-guilty pleasure. **

**The Cool (read: pretentious) Latin PhraseTM**** translates to "****who watches the watchers?", meaning who protects us against those who (supposedly) protect us?**

**Apologies in advance for whatever grammar mistakes pop up, do not hold back in correcting me.**

**The image for this is a picture of my dog because I'd feel too guilty stealing a stock image, and I'm too lazy to design something myself.**

.I.

* * *

Mid-June, 2016 - Farm

Anna had completed high school, her graduation a small affair occurring the weekend before. She had resigned from her position working at the bookstore in town. She had sold her little truck to a boy who lived a couple of farms down. Her room was clean, near empty, her meager belongings neatly packed into a few boxes lined up against the far wall, yet to be loaded into the plane.

She would fly from the farm into Minneapolis this afternoon, her father piloting their little plane. Her brother would meet her there, and they would drive to their new apartment together, and the next stage of her sleepy little life would begin.

Anna was not clever, or beautiful, or special, or creative, or even particularly kind. She also wasn't stupid, or hideous, or particularly unkind. But she was common, ordinary, and completely unspectacular. She was average, perhaps lingering just below.

She graduated on time, with a regular class rank and a regular GPA. She was overweight, her face covered in an excessive smattering of freckles typical of redheads, and her features a bit lopsided. She'd never been with anyone, not that she was particularly interested. Her friends all lived in a city 5 hours away, and she hadn't seen them in years. She hadn't written to them or texted them much either. She'd never bothered to make friends here.

She was ordinary. Average of mind, average of appearance. She had never done anything exceptional. She never planned to.

Anna did not aspire to much. She would have her little apartment with her brother, she would work a little meaningless job just enough to pay her half of the rent. She would go to a little community college in Minneapolis and get a little associate's degree in something that would allow her to continue to be imperfectly average for the rest of her life. She'd be some sort of secretary, or a court reporter, or a paralegal, or a translator. Something where she would work regular hours, indoors, behind a desk. She'd make median income, just enough to be not quite content. She didn't plan to marry, or to have children, or to do much of anything.

There wasn't a spark in her. She didn't feel restless. She wasn't filled with wanderlust or a desire for adventure.

She didn't think she was depressed. She wasn't crushed by the weight of her misery. She simply didn't care. And she wasn't sad that she didn't care. She regarded her life with a grey, lifeless apathy.

Intellectually, she figured that she ought to feel differently, but she could never quite muster up the emotion to really care.

Her father wasn't home yet, but it was nearing noon. She stood, stretched and made the few trips up and down the stairs with the boxes, her things sitting at the farmhouse door, ready to be moved into the plane.

She sat in the rocking chair in the living room and gently moved back and forth. She tapped out a rhythm on her knee. She pulled her hair out of a ponytail, then back into the same ponytail. She drew her phone from her pocket but quickly discovered there was little to do. The screen timed out, the phone still in her hand, as she stared out the window into nothing. Her mind buzzed with little mundane things.

There was no longing for more, no wish that things could be different.

She didn't want for beauty or intelligence, or greater bravery or strength. She just sat, not quite content, but not endeavoring to change anything.

Eventually, her father arrived home with his wife. Anna continued to sit while they bustled about. After some time, she rose, and brought her boxes to the plane, securing them within. When she finished, she made a move to return to the house, but instead, stilled. She got up and sat in the co-pilot's seat. She had no wish to say goodbye to her room, or her home, or the farm animals, or her father's wife. She settled in and continued to stare out at nothing, absently twisting her ring around her finger.

The flight was short and silent, uneventful. They touched down and waited for her brother, who arrived a few minutes after landing. Her father must have called ahead to let him know they had departed earlier than planned.

They all made quick work of depositing her boxes in the car, and her brother got in, the engine still idling.

Anna gave her father a one-armed hug and nodded her goodbye before turning sharply and walking away.

It was a short, silent, and uneventful farewell.

She and her brother made inane conversation on the trip to their apartment, filling the silence, though silence didn't really bother them. The radio played over their conversation, neither of them listening to it. She supposed neither of them were really listening to each other either.

Anna resumed her blank staring at the passing landscape.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello and welcome back!**

**Thanks for coming to read the second chapter! I was definitely planning on updating on a schedule, but these chapters are so short that I don't feel great about having a full week between each one.**

**After I get the first few thousand words out there, I'll probably start sticking to an update schedule.**

**In the meantime, enjoy! **

.II.

* * *

Early July, 2016 - Minneapolis

A couple of weeks into her new job working at the library's front desk, Anna began having strange dreams. Well, dream, singular. Always the same one, every night.

She was standing in a completely white room. Flawless white floors, white walls.

Her eyes would catch on the center of the room, where there was a pedestal, plain, sort of like in a museum. In the center of the pedestal, there was a rock. It was crystalline, a sort of cluster. Organic, asymmetric, imperfect. It was a bit ugly, multifaceted, its spires pointing every which way.

The stone was a deep green, almost glowing. As soon as she started looking at it, it seemed to come alive, tinting the room emerald.

She would stagger towards it, almost hypnotized, and upon touching it, its essence swirled, like a tiny light show, curling around her arm, green and yellow and white strands of energy, seeming to sink into her. It felt like she was absorbing raw power.

And then she woke up.

She thought little of it, and the dream quickly faded. Life marched on. She knew they were recurring, every night, without fail. But it didn't stand out to her. Much like every other thing in her life, it wasn't important.

Anna woke in the morning, put on a pot of coffee, and got ready for work. She moved quietly about the apartment, dressing herself, preparing her bag for work, packing a sandwich for lunch. She sipped her coffee as her eyes scanned over yesterday's newspaper, not truly taking in any of the words.

Her brother was still sound asleep, always dead-tired after working night shifts at the gas station. She usually saw him for a few minutes in the evenings when she returned home from work, just as he was getting ready to head out the door.

Anna rinsed and deposited her coffee mug on the counter, carefully refolded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm, then left, locking the door behind her. She recycled the newspaper on her way across the parking lot, and slowly strolled along to the bus stop, arriving five minutes early, just like every morning.

She stared blankly at the passing traffic as she waited for the right bus to squeal to a stop. Following the swipe of her bus pass and a short nod to the driver, Anna sat across from the middle exit and returned to her customary practice of staring out windows and twisting her ring around her finger.

She arrived at work, 7:25 on the dot, and clocked in at half an hour before opening.

Everything was grey.

Anna sat at the front desk, checking out the muddled stream of faceless patron after patron, issuing the occasional card, dealing with fines and complaints.

She spent her lunch break with another mug of coffee and some academic magazine or another. She idly checked her phone, cleared her email inbox of junk. She counted the minutes until the end of her mandated half-hour, only realizing at the very end that she'd forgotten to actually eat her lunch. On her way back to the desk, she bitterly tossed her sandwich in the trash.

At the end of the workday, Anna sluggishly collected her items, clocked out from her nine-hour shift, and departed. She waited for the bus, leaning against the shelter, eyes closed and head tipped up to the sky. A gentle summer breeze blew past and her hair fluttered in the wind. Anna felt light. Empty. Like a thin, plastic casing for a person without anything alive inside. She fluttered in the wind too.

Anna was nothing. Unanchored. Tossed carelessly to and fro by the metaphorical winds of life, or some bullshit like that. The bus pulled up to the corner, and she boarded. On the long ride home, she chose to stand, not holding the hanging rings or clutching a support bar. She wondered if she might be caught up by the wind here, and be carried off, eventually tangled in the branches of a faraway tree, like a child's lost kite.

When she finally stepped into her apartment just past 5:30, she inwardly scoffed at her sudden flair for the dramatic. She stood on solid ground and felt very human.

Her brother was finishing the last dregs of his coffee, about ready to leave for his shift, not to return until after 2 in the morning.

Anna sat down on a solid chair, both feet planted solidly on the ground, and wondered at the origin of her newfound poetic wistfulness.

As she looked across the kitchen table at Nikolas, there was a dull twinge in her chest. She considered the likelihood of having developed a minor heart defect.

But really, that twinge felt like a sort of echo of the sadness, the loneliness that she supposes she ought to feel.

They chatted idly about her day at work.

Nik stood, swinging his keys about his fingers, the other hand gesturing a lazy two-fingered salute. "Well, I'm off."

"I'll see you 'round nine to bring your dinner," Anna nodded at his back as he walked out the door.

At the sound of the key turning in the lock, a deep sigh escaped Anna as she slumped in the cheap folding chair, crossing her feet at her ankles.

Right in the same spot in her chest where she had felt that twinge came an ache. She closed her eyes, and her mind went back through the grey, empty memories of the past few years until it rested upon the bright spots of a segment of her childhood.

It was after the divorce, her brother and herself living together in a shoddy trailer park. Their mother had been working graveyard shifts doing data entry, and spending the rest of the time drunk or out of the house to screw some nameless man.

Nik and she had been so close, then. Brother and sister, them against the world, and only each other for support. Except, somehow, not in a sad way.

There weren't happier days in her life.

They were stronger for their hardships, their sibling bond as tight as ever. They did everything together, all of their interests aligned as they fell into obsession after obsession with every fictional world they could find.

They were poor and neglected. A little bit starved, their trailer a sickening sty, and friendless but for each other. But happy, against all odds. They laughed and played and were so very alive.

And then came the eviction, the brief homelessness, a spot of childhood alcoholism on Nik's part, and living with their grandparents.

Anna had abandoned him, left for something better, and only found a whole other nightmare to face alone. Nik was stuck with the same old nightmares, except without anyone to fall back on.

Years later, at seventeen, she finally reconnected with him, slowly but surely building a friendship. But not rebuilding. What they had was ashes, and whatever followed would always be different, and would always be weak and tainted with bitterness and guilt. They weren't brother and sister, not anymore. They were nearer to strangers.

Again, Anna supposed she ought to be torn apart over it.

She ought to be miserable, and lonely, and crushed under the weight of it all.

And yet, she was fine. Living just under the edge of content. Moving and breathing and slogging through apathetic grey.


	3. Chapter 3

.III.

Late July, 2016 - Minneapolis

Anna was having a terrible day. Normally, she lived like she was looking at life from behind a foot of glass. Nothing reached her. She couldn't break through either.

But today, everything seemed to dig deep and manage to scrape at her, like the glass had been replaced with gelatin.

She had woken up late from another occurrence of the dream.

Resultingly, she was late into work that morning, having missed the bus, and she had to wake up her brother to drive her.

She'd been stuck on cataloging and shelving today, her least favorite position in the library, and been scolded by the librarian during her break about punctuality, despite her perfect timeliness every other day she'd worked. The breakroom coffee maker was broken, she didn't charge her phone last night, and she had left her lunch in the refrigerator at home.

Anna was not an easily shaken person. She didn't get frustrated by much, things didn't make her sad, and she was not one to cry. Even if she wasn't exceptionally kind or bubbling with joy constantly, she was a patient girl.

The steady build of misfortune wasn't enough to make her break down, but it did have her on edge, and her figurative camel's back could not weather too many more straws.

She'd gotten switched back to circulation at the front desk after her break, and had to stay late at the library because the stragglers didn't understand the meaning of closing time. She had to stay even later to clean up a mess that she hadn't made.

Also wonderful, it was the _one_ day of the week that the library was open late.

When she went to clock out, she discovered the icing on the cake: she had never actually clocked in, and everyone else had already left the premises. The library was closed tomorrow, and she wouldn't be able to sort it out until Monday. Chances were she wasn't getting paid for the extra hour of work.

Anna leaned her forehead against the wall and breathed deeply, a headache building behind her temples. As of yet, no tears welled in her eyes.

She forced herself not to stomp as she made her way to collect her things from behind the desk and in the breakroom.

When she finally left the library, a full hour after closing time, the sun had already set.

She willed calm upon herself as she went to the bus stop, but when she read the laminated sign, a weight settled over her shoulders and she sunk to the ground.

The bus had an adjusted schedule for the next two weeks, and she had missed the last one.

While not especially directionally challenged, she was still new in a big city, and uncertain of the path home on foot, and had no power to consult Google Maps, seeing as her phone was now dead. She had a charging cord, but not the base, not that she had an outlet to plug it into anyways.

There was a pay phone outside the library, but her brother was certainly at work by now, and she wasn't sure she even knew his number anyways. And she certainly didn't know anyone else in the city.

Anna made herself get up from the ground to sit on the bench inside the shelter. She put her head in her hands and gave herself two minutes to pull it together before starting to walk.

The bus trip was half an hour and included freeway travel, and she couldn't very well walk alongside the freeway. She couldn't get an Uber, because her phone was dead. The length of the normal trip made her think walking, even if she knew the way, would take well over an hour. Given that she was clueless, it'd probably take two.

Anna wished she could just go back into the library and sleep there, but whoever had the keys had responsibly locked the doors on their way out, so as soon as the door shut behind her, Anna wasn't able to get back in until Monday morning.

She headed northeast, knowing at least, that she had to cross the river.

She wasn't about to turn around and go back to the crosswalk, so she decided to leg it across Hennepin Avenue.

In a lovely twist of fate, a car with its headlights out rushed at her, the driver leaning on the horn, brakes squealing.

The attempts to stop weren't enough though, and she collided with over a ton of steel. The vehicle was practically stopped by the time it hit her, but the force of it tossed her sideways like a ragdoll, and her head slammed against the asphalt, immediately knocking her out.

Typical.


	4. Chapter 4

.IV.

* * *

? - ?

It was the dream, again. The familiar scene, branded into her head from weeks upon weeks of repetition.

The white room, the glowing crystal.

Only this time, it felt real.

Anna was weak, barely holding herself up on her hands and knees, blood soaking into her hair from the head wound. Her vision blurred, black spots swimming across the room. A high-pitched ringing pierced the air, and she felt as though she would collapse under the weight of her own body.

Almost against her will, Anna crawled forward, limbs trembling. The world tilted with every movement. She reached the foot of the pedestal and slowly dragged herself up, fingers scrabbling at the structure, pain radiating from her side.

Like she was hypnotized by the soft green light, she reached forward and gripped the stone with all of her remaining strength, its points digging in, the surface burning to the touch.

Her world was encompassed in swirling colors, tendrils of bright light, all green and yellow and white. They all faded into one blinding white.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dearest readers, this probably goes without saying, but this fic will have _major spoilers_ for the manga/Brotherhood, starting in this chapter. If you've not finished the story, I'd suggest not continuing until you have.**

**That said, enjoy!**

**P.S., there's a long note at the end of this chapter that I'm not expecting anyone to read, so I figured I'd add this in up here. From this chapter on out, there'll be updates every 2 weeks, on either Saturday or Sunday.**

**P.P.S., thanks to adela10 for leaving a review :')**

.V.

* * *

? - ?

Anna came to walking down an unfamiliar street, in broad daylight. She stopped short. Her head ached, and she reached up to gingerly prod the source of the pain. Her fingers came away dry, but something had crusted in her copper hair. '_Blood?' _she wondered, half disgusted and half fearful.

A cursory glance down at herself told her that her pants were a bit worse for wear, but there were no major tears, and she couldn't see any damage to her black shirt. Her cardigan was in fine condition, and the lack of tearing made her think that she hadn't skinned anything, but her left side ached something fierce. Her leather bag was still hanging from her shoulder, the flap buttoned closed. With everything accounted for, she stepped aside to avoid blocking foot traffic.

Then, she looked around.

It wasn't just an unfamiliar street, she had no idea where she was. It definitely wasn't Minneapolis.

A pair of blonde women walking by caught her attention and Anna interrupted their discussion of the weather. "Excuse me, Miss," she addressed the one nearest to her. "Could you tell me the date?"

The woman nodded obligingly. "It's the 24th of August,"

Anna frowned slightly, "Right, thank you very much." The women went on their way, and Anna was left standing there.

She blinked several times. It was late July when she left work, of that she was certain.

Anna struggled to recall what she was sure had been just moments ago.

Night had fallen by the time she had gotten out of the library, and she had missed the bus.

She remembered sitting at the base of the shelter, hating her life. She remembered starting to walk home.

And that was it. Anna furrowed her brow. She was walking across the street on a warm July evening, and then she was midstep, walking down a sidewalk in a place she'd never seen, with the sun shining brightly and her body aching.

Anna swallowed around the lump in her throat.

She stopped another pedestrian, and she didn't know what possessed her to ask her next question. "Excuse me, sir. I know this must seem like a very strange question, but would you mind telling me what year it is?"

He stared for a moment, and Anna felt completely stupid. She wanted to dismiss the inquiry and walk away. Until he spoke. "1914," he said, slowly, looking a bit concerned, likely thinking Anna was either joking around or experiencing serious amnesia.

Anna's stomach dropped, her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. She choked out a short cough and nodded at the man. "Of course, thank you," she said weakly.

He squinted. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes. Quite alright, thank you." She forced a smile. "Excuse me."

Anna quickly walked away, her breath coming in short gasps. She turned off the road into an alley and leaned heavily against the wall.

"Right, August 24th, 1914," she murmured, shaking her head.

"Time travel, then," she shrugged. "That's alright." Anna struggled not to vomit.

_'It's not a dream, it can't be. This is definitely real. It feels real. I _know _when I'm dreaming.'_

A vintage car rolled past, puffing exhaust into the air. It looked like one of those really early Fords from a black-and-white film.

Anna blinked multiple times, rubbing at her eyes. She leaned back out into the street and took a moment to really observe her surroundings, and it got even harder to breathe. It really wasn't a contrived prank. The year was not 2016. She was not in Minneapolis.

It was 1914, for real.

Anna quickly jerked back into the alley and lowered to a crouch, putting her head in her hands.

Anna didn't handle pain all that well, and she didn't know the feeling of a broken bone, but it felt like her ribs had been smashed in with a sledgehammer. Moreover, her skull was filled with tiny people wielding pickaxes, desperately trying to escape.

Dreams weren't painful.

Her throat closed up, and when her vision blurred, Anna wasn't sure whether to attribute it to her massive headache, or the quickly dawning panic.

If this was real, Anna needed to get over her fear, and adapt. Now.

She slowly looked up and focused on the mortar outlining the bricks of the wall opposite.

"I'm a time-traveler," she choked out. Anna dropped her head again, humorlessly chuckling.

Her eyelids slid shut and she rose to a stand, leaning her back against the brick. "The date is August 24th, 1914. I don't know where I am, or how I got here," she affirmed quietly.

Anna forced her brain to get working, and laid out the facts for herself. "I have a head wound, probably one that was bleeding, based on the crustiness in my hair. The last thing I remember was crossing the street." She paused. "Did I get hit by a car? Concussion, then. That explains the memory gap."

Anna paused again. "That definitely does _not _explain the time travel."

She breathed deeply. "Okay. I don't know where I am."

She tried to focus again. "The people here speak English, but I don't recognize the accent. The people here are mostly white. They have cars. I am in a busy, urban area."

"This is probably Europe, then." She squinted at the architecture and considered the language. "Western Europe."

"I ought not go around asking people what country this is, lest I be arrested as an illegal immigrant." She chuckled again. "Let's not do prison," she murmured.

"Okay. I'm standing in an alley, talking to myself like a lunatic and laughing aloud. Let's not do mental hospital either." Anna took another deep breath and straightened, squaring her shoulders.

She shut her eyes one more time, to brace herself, and stepped back out into the street.

Anna scanned the sidewalk for another kind-looking pedestrian to bug.

She settled on a smiling brunette woman. "Excuse me, miss?" The woman stopped, turned to Anna, and nodded pleasantly.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Anna continued, "but I'm afraid I'm a touch lost. Could you direct me to the nearest train station?" She mentally crossed her fingers that that would be an appropriate question for the area and time period, though she was fairly certain trains had been around for a while now.

"Of course!" the woman said brightly, frowning a bit in concentration as she looked about to orient herself. She then relayed the directions to Anna, speaking slowly. "Do you think you've got it? I'm not busy, so I could walk you there, if that would help," she offered.

"Ah, that's very kind of you, thank you," Anna said, a weak but genuine smile touching her lips. "I'm sure I'll be alright, though. Thank you for your help, have a lovely day."

Anna felt a wave of gratitude for all of her experience in customer service for allowing her to speak properly and smile despite the current chaos in her mind.

She exchanged farewells with the woman, and made her way to the station, trying to look for clues as to a more specific location on the way, but for the most part, too distracted by her racing thoughts. _'This is Europe. This is the early twentieth century. Yesterday, I was not in Europe, and it was not the early twentieth century.'_

_'I sustained a head injury, and sometime after that, managed some time travel.'_

_'I'm not dead, and I'm going to go ahead and say that I'm not dreaming.'_

Anna arrived inside the gigantic station and looked around, overwhelmed by the size of it. There was a large fountain with a clock, informing her that it was a quarter after 2 in the afternoon. There were scores of people milling about, and the sheer noise of it caused another wave of pain to course through her head.

The walls had maps, informative train schedules, and there were two expansive ticket counters with several windows, all of them with lines of people.

There was a sign that read "Welcome to Central City".

Anna felt unsettled, but unable to pinpoint the cause.

She shook it off and found herself counting blessings. '_At least they speak English here.'_

She made her way over to a schedule and scanned the list of locations.

She listed off the bolded headings under her breath. "East City, North City, West City, South City." The same discomfort returned to the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it aside again.

"Really creative naming, huh," she muttered.

"Direct to New Optain, Direct to Wellesley, Direct to Fotcett, Posterim by way of New Optain, Pendleton by way of West City, Monmort by way of North City, Conolo by way of North City, Vectora by way of North City." She rattled off the meaningless words as a distraction.

She closed her eyes, tried to ward off the panic. Anna looked again at the schedule. Her mind highlighted the city names she'd really rather not see. _'Briggs. Rush Valley. Dublith. Youswell. Liore.'_

_'Resembool.'_

Anna swallowed and turned to see a map of the country.

Its familiar shape jarred her deeply. Almost perfectly round, divided into the five directionally-labeled provinces. Her eyes scanned the names of the surrounding countries. Drachma to the north. Creta to the west. Aerugo to the south. The desert to the east.

Finally, she looked to the box in the lower right corner.

It read "Amestris".

Anna choked out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"I'm a time-traveler from another world," she mouthed to herself in disbelief. "The date is August 24th, 1914," she paused, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm in Central City, Amestris."

Anna shuddered. She made her way to one of the huge, towering columns lining the station, and sat at its base. She pulled her knees tight to her chest, laced her fingers together, and pressed her thumbs against her temples as her headache intensified tenfold.

She desperately tried to ward off the panic attack, to not focus on the reality of her situation. To breathe.

Anna blinked back tears, staring at the buckles on her shoes. She anxiously fumbled around with her ring, twisting it round and round her finger.

She willed her heart to slow, her breathing to even out.

Long moments passed with her eyes fixed on the silver buckles. Eventually, when her heart stopped feeling like it would beat right out of her chest and the tears had drawn back, she unfolded her legs.

Anna decided, then, that she needed a plan.

_'Okay. Adaptable. We were fine when we realized the year was 1914, and we're fine now. We can adapt.'_

_'What are we gonna do here, kiddo?' _her mind pressed.

_'We're in Amestris, of all places.' _Anna refused to even consider that it was an elaborate prank. Partly because she didn't want false hope, and partly because she didn't think her mind could handle another major shift without breaking. '_We can assume we're not going home to Minneapolis, 2016, for the foreseeable future.'_

She took another settling breath. _'We're in Amestris, the year is 1914, and assuming this follows the manga/Brotherhood canon, this nation is about to crumble, and 50 million people will nearly die.'_

Anna started panicking again, and shut her eyes, hard.

_'If I don't interfere, some people will die. Good people. Even more people will suffer. Also good people. But, if I keep out of it, I know everything will be mostly fine in the end. 50 million people _nearly _die. _Nearly_ being the operative word,' _she reasoned.

_'I don't _have _to do anything.'_

_'...Do I?'_

_'Should I?'_

Anna shook her head fiercely.

_'What can I even do? I am weak and worthless.'_

_'But I have foreknowledge.' _she countered. '_I could offset things. I could potentially save those good people. I could prevent a lot of suffering.'_

_'I could potentially make things a thousand times worse,' _she growled back at herself. '_I could butterfly-effect the hell out of everything just by being here. 50 million people could _actually _die. I could die.'_

Blood rushed in her ears.

_'If I do try to help, who will believe me anyway? How will I even find anyone?'_

_'If I don't tell anyone what I know, what then? I'm one hundred years in the past, in a different city, country, world. I have no contacts, no job, no money, no place to stay.'_

_'If I do tell someone, none of that is guaranteed to change. I might get locked up.'_

_'Okay. Okay. Mentally arguing with myself is not making me any headway.'_

Anna realized she still had her bag. She rooted around in it for a pen and pulled out her notebook. A plan. She could do that. She could make a plan.

Anna began to write.

_Step One: decide. To tell, or not to tell._

She divided the page into Path A, and Path B. _'When in doubt, make a T-chart.'_

In column A, she began filling out the steps, organizing her thoughts.

_Step 2: decide who to tell._

_Step 3: find the people I decide to tell._

_Step 4: oh shit, figure out what to actually tell._

_*Note to self: Adjust S4 to happen sooner rather than later._

_Step 5: tell them. Answer questions. Don't get locked up._

_Step 6: defer to the judgment of the heroes of this story, probably._

_The rest of path A: TBD._

Anna took a deep breath and moved onto column B.

_Step 2: resign yourself to your new life._

She divided column B into columns _'cc' _and _'?'._ Staring with _'cc', _she wrote:

_Step 3: find a job here in central city?_

_Step 4: live on the streets whilst you collect enough money to find a home?_

_Step 5: find a home_

_Step 6: live your life and make preparations to flee the country come time for the Promised Day?_

_Step 7: assuming everything is fine after the Promised Day, come back to Central?_

Moving onto _'?'._

_Step 3: somehow collect money for a train ticket to a less-scary city?_

_Step 4: board train to less-scary city._

_Step 5: find a job in said city_

_Step 6: find a home in said city_

_Step 7: live your life and prepare to flee the country come time for the Promised Day?_

_Step 8: if OK after P day, come back to Amestris?_

Anna tapped her pen against the page.

Frustrated tears started building behind her eyelids. Determined not to cry, she decided to find another distraction.

_'Hmmmmmmmmmm.' _she mentally drawled. '_There's literally no reason for it, but... This is a new life. I can be anybody. Maybe I should change my name. Anna's pretty dull, no?'_

Anna latched onto the chance to focus on something other than impending doom.

_'Okay, it can't be something boring. And it can't be any characters from the story, obviously. Maybe it should be something really weird.'_

She flipped to a new page in her notebook, ready to plan a lighter endeavor for herself. She made herself another T-chart, with the columns, "Really weird" and "Normal-ish", and began throwing out potential aliases for herself, circling the stand-outs on her way.

She ended up with a list:

_Felicitas Allaway_

_Cassiopeia Vess_

_Andromache Rowan_

_Asteria Atwood_

_Maia Carina_

_Arielle Gallagher_

Anna narrowed it down to Cassiopeia, Asteria, Maia, and Arielle. She squinted at the names, mouthing each one.

She underlined Maia.

'_Maia Carina.'_

'_My name is Maia Carina.'_

Anna smiled and set down her pen. Maia Placidus, one of the brightest stars in the sky. Constellation of Carina.

She repeated the new name in her mind over and over, glad for the distraction from her current situation. _'Maia. Maia. Maia Carina. I'm Maia Carina. My name is Maia Carina.'_

The corners of her mouth angled upwards in a rueful smile, and a calm, bittersweet acceptance settled over her.

She wasn't going home.

Anna Peterson was dead.

Her world was gone. Her brother was gone.

She would never show up on her first day of college. She would never work another shift at the library. She would never see the Minneapolis skyline again.

And, with another few breaths, _Maia_ was okay with that. At peace.

_'Amestris. Home. I can work with that.'_

She nodded affirmingly and turned her attention to coming up with a cover story.

_'Well, to begin, if the year is 1914, I can't have been born in 1998. If this is Amestris, I can't be from Minneapolis, Minnesota.'_

_'Birthday… how about January. That's a good month. January 12th. If the year is 1914, and I'm 18 years old, which I am, then I was born in 1896. So, Maia Carina, born on January 12th, 1896.'_

_'I'm not familiar with anywhere, really, but I'd rather not say I'm foreign. A small town, then. I suppose we can say I grew up in... the mining town of Youswell, if anyone asks. Unless anyone is from Youswell. Ah, we can cross that bridge when we get to it.'_

_'My parents were... Lisa and Thomas Carina, both deceased. Lisa died when I was twelve, Thomas when I was eighteen.'_

_'My father worked in the mines, and my mother stayed at home to raise me and teach me. Simple enough. After she died, I started doing minor work in the mines.'_

_'Okay. Maia Carina, born on January 12th, 1896. I'm from Youswell, in the east. I'm an only child. My parents are both dead. My mother got sick and passed away when I was younger and my father passed away in a mining accident... just last year. I'm in Central because… none of your business? I thought I had family here but it turns out that was a lie? None of your business.'_

Maia recorded the basics of her new identity and flipped back to stare at her planning page.

_'Alright, if I'm going to use my foreknowledge to warn people, I ought to orient myself in the timeline. Even if I'm not talking, I should orient myself anyway.'_

Maia flipped to the back of the page.

_Timeline_, she wrote. Then she got to work wracking her brain and writing down every last detail she could remember, trying to organize things in order before setting dates to them. She found that as she started working, images started to flow back to her.

She began listing off early events but soon found she didn't know much after Edward got his State Certification.

Maia sighed, breaking off. '_Okay… right now, it's 1914. The stuff before that doesn't really matter. Can't change the past.'_

_Summer, 1914, _she wrote.

She managed to construct a decent sketch of events, but her attempts at recollection made her head throb. She wanted to give up. Instead, she sighed and kept writing.

She made it as far as she could, including as much detail as she could recall. Maia's stomach churned as the events of the Promised Day played through her mind.

Maia laid down her pen, her wrist aching, and the pain in her head even worse. She started to try to assign dates to things on her timeline but quickly found it was an uphill battle. She didn't even know when the Promised Day was, beyond the vague marker of spring 1915. Eclipse day.

Maia closed the notebook, capped her pen, and deposited both in her bag. Her body ached from sitting on the ground, and another glance to the clock told her that a couple of hours had passed, and it wouldn't be long until evening.

She just wanted to sleep. '_I still haven't decided what I'm going to do.'_

Based on the timeline she'd constructed, there was nobody in Central right now. Mustang's team was still stationed in East City, and the Elric brothers would be off searching for the philosopher's stone. Perhaps they were in Liore by now.

Maia concluded that the only trustworthy people in Central right then were Hughes and Armstrong, and if she _was_ going to tell, she wouldn't start with them.

She thinks, then, about who she _would_ start with. The obvious answer would be the protagonist. Yet, she doubted that it would go over well. She doubted it would go over well with anyone at all. Mustang alone wasn't an option. She supposed she could try the Elrics and Mustang together. If she could sufficiently convince them, Hughes would definitely be involved at some point, but not right away. He'd probably get himself killed even faster.

_'Hughes's death,' _she mused, _'hasn't happened yet, if I'm right about this timeline. I could save him. I could save Elicia's father, Gracia's husband, Mustang's best friend.'_

Tears pricked her eyes as another realization hit her like a gut punch. _'Nina might not be dead yet. I could save Nina. Nina might not be a chimera yet. Scar might not have killed her yet. Hughes be damned, Nina isn't a fictional character any longer. Nina is a little girl. I can't let her die. If I do nothing else, there must be something I can do to stop a little girl from dying.'_

Resolve settled in her heart like steel. It didn't matter what lesson Edward learned from Nina's death, what motivation he gained from it. She didn't care about the stupid timeline. Canon could get fucked. She had to stop it. It was non-negotiable.

How she would stop it, she hadn't the faintest clue. She couldn't just send a cryptic letter to someone and hope for the best.

Maia needed to get to East City and take action. She didn't know how long she had. Not enough time, if there was time at all.

And she somehow had to collect the cenz necessary for a train to East City.

Invigorated by her resolve, Maia pushed herself to her feet. A brief trip to the ticket counter let her know that she'd need 2000 cenz for a one-way trip to East City, leaving tomorrow.

Maia had no clue as to what the conversion rate was. Her only points of reference were the 520 cenz promise- money Ed had borrowed to make a phone call, she thought- and the 100 cenz the Briggs soldiers charged Edward for a cup of coffee.

Four phone calls. Twenty cups of coffee. One train ticket from Central to East City.

Maia figured she could hop onto a freight train, but she didn't have the first clue as to how to pull that off, nor was she all that excited about committing a crime in a foreign country and getting arrested. Not with so much at stake.

She supposed she could go around begging people for a few cenz and work up to the 2000, but the thought made her feel sick. She couldn't waste time, not when Nina could be dying at any moment.

Maia considered her belongings, and whether there would be a pawnbroker in Central City in 1914.

She took stock of her possessions, noting her cheap earrings, her gold necklace, and her ring. She rooted through her bag but found nothing of use. Just her notebook, a library book on the history of cancer, her dead cellphone, charging cord, earbuds, her wallet with its useless ID, credit card, and cash, her equally useless keys, and other miscellaneous crap.

Nothing helpful.

Jewelry, then.

Maia wasn't much of a sentimental person, but they weren't meaningless. The earrings, sure, meant nothing to her.

The necklace was a pity gift, or perhaps a bribe, from her father's wife. She couldn't quite remember, but she thought it could be ten-karat gold. Maia recalled considering selling it on eBay, once upon a time. It had been worth over a hundred dollars at the time, but yet again she had no idea what that meant in cenz. She wouldn't even know it in US dollars, considering it was 1914. But she bet that $100 was enough for a train ticket.

If it wasn't, though… The ring was from her aunt, whom she really did love. It was fine Black Hills gold, inset with a pretty decent-sized diamond. Maia never looked into selling it. The thought had never crossed her mind, but she knew that it had to be valuable.

She looked back on losing the ring her freshman year of high school. It had been a terrible day, and she searched for it for hours on end after school, enlisting the help of every willing person she came across. When she found it, in the middle of her school parking lot, the sun long since set, in the dead of winter, she was shaking from the cold, unshed tears frozen on her eyelashes. She hadn't taken it off of her finger since.

Maia decided she would sell the necklace, provided she could find someone to sell it to, but her heart was heavy at the thought of giving up that ring.

She left the train station and stepped back out into the streets of Central, hoping some shops were still open.

Maia happened upon a florist and asked after the location of a jewelry appraiser. In a turn of luck, the man happily gave her directions and sent her on her way.

She managed to find it and entered the small store. A stout, bearded man standing behind a narrow counter looked up at her as a little bell attached to the door jangled.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm looking to sell some jewelry." Maia said as she approached the counter.

He assented gruffly. "Let's see it then."

Maia nodded and swept her dull copper hair aside and reached for the clasp of the necklace. She struggled briefly, but unhooked it carefully and handed it over to the man.

He squinted, "This is gold then, clearly. Karat?"

"Ten, I believe, though I could be mistaken."

"And the stone?"

"Amethyst," she returned.

"You acquired it when?"

"About 2 years ago, in... 1912," she said, nearly tripping over her words, and hoping he didn't take it for a lie. It technically was a lie, she supposed, though it was genuinely acquired two years previously. She couldn't just say "the year of our Lord two-thousand and fourteen".

He hummed and began inspecting it. He waved her off to a wooden stool sitting against the wall near the counter. She obediently sat, her eyes lowered as he conducted his work. She didn't even begin to understand what he was doing or how one determined the worth of such a thing.

Whatever number he gave her, she would accept.

Maia resisted bouncing her leg or tapping her fingers, not wanting to annoy the man. He looked like he might be the type to be easily annoyed. His haggard face was wrinkled with frown lines, and the concentration pulled his features in tight, making him look almost angry. She sat still, her eyes again settling on the buckles of her shoes as she fidgeted with her ring.

Maia thought about Nina Tucker, images from the stories she had once seen, fiction in her world, but here, so very real. Nina was a real little girl.

She needed to be loved and protected. She wouldn't get that from her dad. Maia had to save her. Shou Tucker had to be stopped.

Anxiously, she fiddled with the ring around her finger, twisting it faster. She made a decision. She would wait for the man to finish his appraisal of her necklace, and then she would offer it up.

Nina Tucker was worth so much more than a little piece of metal and a shiny rock. Maia needed all the resources she could get, and anything she gave up paled in comparison to the loss of an innocent life. She rubbed at the golden band fondly, taking in her last moments with it.

Abruptly, the man knocked his knuckles against the wood of the counter, lowered the magnifier, and said "20,000 cenz. Take it or leave it."

Maia stood, cleared her throat, and accepted the offer, requesting small bills. He counted out the money and slid it to her, and began filling out a receipt. It was enough.

Yet, it felt cheap to her. Not in the sense that he was swindling her, or anything. It felt too easy.

Maia wasn't a sucker for pain, she didn't want things to be harder for the drama of it. But she was right. She really should collect all the resources she could. She would need food, somewhere to stay, and, when it came down to it, if she stopped Shou Tucker, Nina would have nothing.

"Could I trouble you to take a look at my ring?" she asked nervously.

He looked up from the receipt and narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he nodded sharply.

Maia stroked it one last time and slid it from her finger. "18 karat gold, .5 carat diamond. I got it seven years ago."

She moved her hand towards the counter, the ring cradled in her palm.

She stared at it for a long moment, and her hand shook when she went to place it on the counter.

He just hummed again, directed his attention to the ring, and waved her off back to the stool.

Maia sat and rubbed at the skin of her right ring finger, thinking again of Nina Tucker and her twin braids. Playing with her dog. Calling Edward "brother". Maia was struck with the images of Nina fused with Alexander, deconstructed by Scar.

Maia nodded to herself in affirmation. There wasn't a doubt in her mind or her heart that she was making the right choice. This sacrifice, whatever it would bring her, was worth it. It had to be.

Maia thought to the origin of her ring.

Her aunt, who gave it to her, loved her a great deal. She often wrote letters, and she sent gifts for every single holiday, even ones like Halloween or the 4th of July. She never missed a birthday. She picked up Maia and her brother for weekend trips, and tirelessly composed scrapbooks, carefully documenting every moment they spent together. It was parental love like Anna had never known from anyone else.

When their mother had gone off and disappeared for over a week, her older brother called their aunt. He felt unsure of himself, anxious to ask for anything. Their aunt immediately drove to come to take care of them, hardly even pausing on the long drive to their house.

The trailer they lived in was truly disgusting, filled with trash and bugs, mold growing in the walls. Part of them wanted to clean it, but they were just kids. They could never manage it all alone, and their mother wouldn't lift a finger to help out. So they lived in filth.

Aunt Layla, upon her arrival, rented a dumpster, purchased trash bags in bulk, and bought pairs of elbow-length gloves for the three of them. They cleaned. It was long work, and hard work, and disgusting work. She took care of them for as long as she was there. She cooked real meals every night, and she read them stories even though they insisted that they were too old. She taught Anna how to french-braid her hair, and called her Anna-banana, and she drove them to school every morning and picked them up every afternoon. They talked about her dreams. The adventures Anna longed for, the great things she hoped to do. Layla listened, and she told Anna that she was capable of anything.

And when their mother arrived home drunk and angry as they'd ever seen her, she ranted and raved and pushed Aunt Layla out the door, and Layla demanded nothing. She didn't yell back or ask for a payment, or even a thank you. She kissed their foreheads and told them that they were loved, and she said goodbye. She kept sending letters, and gifts, and love.

About a year after her previous visit, Layla called to tell them she was planning to come to pick them up so they could spend time together. That she had already cleared it with their mother, and that they should pack their bags to be ready for a week of fun. Layla had a room in her home just for them. Anna and her brother bounced off the walls all day before her arrival.

Night fell, and eventually, their excitement died down into disappointment. They sat on their suitcases outside until the mosquito bites were too many, and going back in felt like giving up. Anna and Nikolas sat just inside the door all night, peering hopefully through the screen door, talking to each other to stay awake, guessing at what they'd get up to during the week.

When morning came, light shining through the glass and rousing them, they didn't feel betrayed. Insidious worry replaced the mix of sadness and hope from the night previous.

By afternoon that day, they found out the news from their paternal grandmother. Layla had gotten into a car accident on the freeway. A drunk driver had swerved into her car and crashed her into the concrete barrier. She passed away immediately on impact.

She was to be cremated, and the funeral would be that weekend.

Their mother made another one of her empty promises, saying that they would attend, but the morning of, she was nowhere to be found. She didn't return for days.

Anna and Nikolas just sat in silence for the whole day, crying on and off, but never managing words. They didn't mind the absence of their mother, not really. It was time for grief.

The week after the funeral, their grandmother contacted them again to tell them that Aunt Layla had been bringing gifts and that they had been recovered from the wreckage that was once her car. Their grandmother put them in the mail. Anna never learned what her brother had gotten, but she had received a long letter and that beautiful ring. It had been too loose for her finger at the time, but she wore it around a gold chain, close to her heart.

Now it was exactly her size.

Another knock on the counter- this one more soft, almost reluctant- snapped her out of her reverie. She dragged the back of her hand across her face, hurriedly wiping away tears.

The man gave her a long look, assessing her. "This is very fine work. It's quite beautiful."

Maia stood, clearing her throat. "Thank you. It was a gift," she said quietly, eyes lowered.

"Are you sure you want to sell it?" he prompted. His eyes were soft and genuine, his stance relaxed. His entire demeanor had shifted.

Maia blinked a few times, briefly clenched her fists, and nodded. "Yes," she said shortly. "I'm sure."

He nodded slowly. "Is 550,000 cenz acceptable to you?"

Maia looked at him in shock. "Is that…" she trailed off.

She cleared her throat again. "Is that what it's worth?"

He looked at her again and smiled softly. "Perhaps not intrinsically. To you, though, I can tell it can't be nearly enough. To you, it is more than a band of metal inlaid with a precious stone. There isn't a price to be put on that. But," he said, "I can approximate and still keep myself in business."

Maia stared.

"550,000," he repeated softly. "Does that work?"

Maia managed a small nod.

"I'll hold onto it for a month. I won't sell it. If, in the meantime, you decide you want it back, it's yours."

He retreated to the back, presumably to a safe, and returned with a stack of paper bills. She gave the name Anna Peterson, in a final farewell to herself, and he wrote out the receipt for both transactions, and bid her good day.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Goodbye."

She accepted the money, tucking it into her bag, and left the store.

Maia returned to the train station, walking slowly. She stepped up to the counter and purchased Maia Carina's one-way ticket to East City, departing the next morning.

* * *

**Notes that don't matter (really, they don't) (that's why they're here at the bottom instead of the beginning of the chapter)**

**(Really though, this is just some of me over-explaining stuff.)**

* * *

_**In regards to the concussion/head**__** injury: **_**I've had a concussion before. I know how concussions work. I am taking creative liberty with how concussions work because I feel like it. Please, suspend your disbelief. **

* * *

**_In regards to currency:_ I have genuinely no idea what the worth of a cen is, so I'm _very_ loosely basing it off of Japanese yen. So, in 2019 USD, she's got close to $5,000, $6,000 now? Maybe?**

**Every time I write out something with regards to money in this, I convert from yen to USD, then adjust for a hundred years of inflation, and then totally ignore that number and write whatever I want, because it is my story and she will have exactly as much in the way of resources as I want her to have. Please excuse my lack of monetary consistency.**

* * *

**_In regards to the timeline stuff: _T****he way I see it, Anna/Maia has a pretty decent memory, but would definitely need to write things down before she forgets anything. **

**What Maia is able to recall- before anything starts happening- is based on what I was able to recall without checking the wiki or rereading/rewatching anything. (That's not to say I'm writing this entire fic without checking the wiki/rereading stuff- just this part, haha)**

**She doesn't really remember minute details, but she has a pretty good mental sketch of how the story goes. When events start getting closer, or she starts thinking harder about things, well, she'll probably be able to recall more. That's kinda how things work, I guess. At least with my brain.**

* * *

**_In regards to the renaming: _Haha sorry for the random naming bit, I was just having fun. When I started writing, I couldn't decide on a name, so I picked the most basic thing that came to mind, and later on, I started doing some brainstorming.**

**And now, the renaming thing jives with me pretty well. Anna and Maia aren't _different people, _obviously. It's the same human person. But there is a distinction between personality. Time-traveling and universe-hopping, I imagine, sort of does that to you.**

**In a sense, as Maia said, Anna Peterson is dead, now. ****The motivation- unconsciously, kind of- for renaming herself was drawing a distinction between her two lives, and driving it in that she's really not going home. For Maia's intents and purposes, Anna Peterson died in that car crash, if that makes any sense.**

**Moreover, you might have noted that Anna sort of exhibited some... depressed qualities? I'm not saying she was depressed, or that jumping into a fictional world could magically cure that kind of issue. **

**That being said, Anna's total lack o****f interest in being alive/general purposelessness/lack of emotion/etc. was something that zapped away pretty quickly when her whole world changed. ****I think a lot of what she had going on was based in feeling purposeless/that life was meaningless, and she's found something to really focus on that has given her meaning, if that makes any sense?**

**I mentioned a "hero-complex" in the summary for this fic.**

* * *

**_Other random stuff: _In case anyone is curious, I've also been calculating train travel time, not that I've included any actual, hard times in the story. I base the times off of train speeds in the late 19th/early 20th century. **

**I'm calculating the distance between locations with PosterMasterChef's New Amestris Road Map on DeviantArt, replacing the "main roads" with railroads.**

**If you google **_"New Amestris Road Map by PosterMasterChef on DeviantArt",_** it will doubtless be the first result.**

**I'm basing the exact dates of events (something that will come into play later) off of YamiRing's Manga Timeline on Tiki-Toki.**

**If you google something along the lines of **_"FMA Manga Timeline Tiki-Toki",_** it will doubtless be the first result.**

**Lastly, the events of this fic are going to be based on a fusion of the manga and Brotherhood, with me picking and choosing the stuff I prefer from either one. More of that creative liberty stuff, y'know?**

**Oh my GOODNESS, this note was _so_ long. I don't know why I feel the need to over-explain myself.**

**I hope you're enjoying so far! As always, feel free to point out any issues you see! I'm a bad proofreader when it's my own stuff :(**

**See you with a new chapter in two weeks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Haha, whoops.**

**I suppose abandoning things for months on end is sort of par for the course with this kind of stuff, but nonetheless, I apologize, dear readers.**

**Let's see about getting back into the swing of things!**

.VI.

* * *

25th August, 1914 - Central City

Maia rose from the unassuming park bench she'd managed to find the evening before. She'd been loath to spend what money she had on a hotel, so she had hunted for accommodations elsewhere. Eventually, the dizziness had been too much to handle, and she had practically collapsed onto the bench when she had come across it.

She had slept with her bag tucked under her shirt, wedged between her body and the bench, and had tucked her thick stack of newly acquired cenz into her sock.

It was still summer in Amestris, but nearing its end, and the cool breeze of early autumn crept in by nightfall. Sleep had not come easily and had not stayed long.

Maia was still exhausted from the events of the day previous, and her body ached from her night on the hard bench.

Maia dragged her eyelids open, squinting against the brightness of morning light, and moved to sit up. Her bag slipped out from under her shirt, falling to her lap, and her left side pulsed with pain. Maia lifted her shirt and discovered an ugly, mottled bruise spanning the length of her ribcage.

Her head was pounding, and the light of the sun felt like hot needles piercing her eyes. She pushed a breath out of her nose and gripped the arm of the bench. At her attempt to stand, spots filled her vision and the ground rushed up to meet her as she fell to her knees, hard.

Even collapsed on the sidewalk, her elbows braced against the concrete, the world around her was spinning. The resulting nausea made her stomach heave, and she choked up an ugly little puddle of acid.

The putrid smell of her own sick brought on a new wave of nausea and she gagged audibly. Maia sat back on her heels and struggled her way back onto the bench. Her throat burned and her eyes burned worse.

She was sweaty and shivering and longing for a quiet, dark room. Maia pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, willing the headache to go away. Her mouth tasted foul.

After her stomach settled and her wits had mostly returned to her, Maia struggled to remember, for a moment, where she was. Then the memories came crashing back, and the burning in her tightly shut eyes felt like tears.

Maia forced breaths in through her nose, and out the mouth. She blindly reached for her bag and opened her eyes to a slit to search for her train ticket.

She spent a few more minutes seated on the bench to gather her strength, and very slowly brought herself to a standing position, pausing with every tiny motion to wait for the vertigo to dissipate.

Maia lamented her lack of a watch, and set out for the train station, checking to see that her ticket was still there at least five times on her slow trip over.

The clock within the station informed her that she had only five minutes before her departure. While she was mostly glad not to have arrived in the nick of time, Maia also longed to just sit down and not rise again until her arrival in East City.

She settled at the base of the same column as the day previous and closed her eyes, unwilling to think about anything until after she had a nap on a comfortable bed in East City.

Seconds ticked by like minutes, and Maia found no relief from her headache in the intermediate time before the train's arrival.

When the blare of the train whistle cut through the air, it felt like her brain had liquefied, and she struggled to gather her bearings enough to stand.

Maia fished the ticket out of her pocket and boarded the train. Despite the inevitable motion-sickness from the constant rumbling of the train, and the searing screeches of a frustrated child in her train car, Maia found rest, and slept the whole way to East City.

* * *

She was awakened by the piercing whistle of the train as it approached the East City station. Naps aboard a train often make for restless sleep, but Maia felt leagues better than she had before boarding. Her headache felt muted, now, a dull pressure rather than drilling agony.

The train slowed to a stop, and Maia rose from her seat, taking care to monitor her dizziness, but feeling fairly steady.

After deboarding the train, she was pleased to find a row of benches along the wall, a welcome change from Central's own station. Maia selected the bench nearest to her and sat, her bag in her lap.

Maia knew she could not stay long. For one thing, most did not take kindly to loitering, but for another, her muscles cried out for rest in a real bed, and her head could use a break from bright lights.

She stayed on the bench for a long moment before sighing deeply and making her way up to the ticket counter.

The attendant looked deeply bored and stared at her with dull eyes.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I've just got in from Central and I was wondering if you might be able to help me find lodging. Do you know what the cheapest place to stay in East City would be?"

The man's face changed from deeply bored, to deeply annoyed. Maia was suddenly overcome with a deep longing for the Airbnb app, or just Google in general.

"Kid, I'm a station clerk, not a tour guide." He scowled. Maia bowed her head, resigning herself to trotting around the city until she found an inn herself, but fortunately, he began to list off different inns. Maia scrambled for her notebook and pen to write down the names and vague locations.

"Thank you so much, sorry to have troubled you," she said in her best customer-service voice.

He glared.

Maia turned and plopped back down on the bench. All she'd done today was ride a train, but she felt well and truly exhausted. Her entire being was sore, and on top of it all, she felt sick with worry about Nina. Even more so about the 50 million lives at stake if she fucked up.

Maia released another sigh, gathered her bearings and stood again. She longed for Google Maps too.

Outside the train station, she stopped a pedestrian and showed him the list of inns, and asking which was closest.

This man, much happier to help, politely pointed her in the right direction, and she thanked him and set off.

It was mercifully nearby, which she supposed was logical, given that she had come from a train station. She was grateful nonetheless.

Maia stopped outside the inn and leaned against a wall to pull some cenz out of her sock. She groped around inside her bag for her wallet, withdrew the worthless US dollars, and replaced them with her cenz. The useless green paper was deposited in the bottom of her bag.

Maia entered the inn and walked up to the front desk, returning the receptionist's smile.

"I'd like to book a room," she said.

"Wonderful, and how long are you planning to stay with us?" the receptionist- _'Innkeeper?'_\- inquired.

"I'm not certain yet. Would it be possible to go on a night-by-night basis?"

"Certainly. Check-out is at 11 A.M."

Maia managed another weak smile and handed over her money, checking in under her new name: Maia Carina. Surprisingly, the nightly rate wasn't much more than her train ticket.

The receptionist -_'It's 1914 and this is an inn, it's probably innkeeper.' _-gave her the key and the room number, and Maia trudged up the stairs to the room, locking the door behind her.

Maia stripped down to her underclothes and sat down on the bed. She set aside the stack of cenz from her sock and began inspecting the damage to her body. The gigantic bruise on her left side somehow looked even worse now. It was an ugly mess of violet, blue, and brown. A nasty almost-black outlined the visible ridges of her ribs. She lightly ran a hand across her ribs, and the gentle touch sent a flare of pain to her nerves.

It hurt like a bitch, but breathing wasn't so bad, so Maia didn't think her ribs were fractured.

Unlike she had initially thought, her right side wasn't free from surface damage. There wasn't much in the way of bruising, just mild road rash, but the exposure to the air stung.

A light touch to her scalp found that, despite the blood matting her hair, her skull wasn't dented, didn't seem cracked.

She figured she had a mild concussion, especially based on the memory loss, the dizziness, and the vomiting, but nothing more severe than that, really.

Her vision problems had gone away, she hadn't fainted, and she was able to walk fine, so she wouldn't get involved with a doctor.

Having taken stock of her injuries, Maia decided she'd take advantage of the nice bed and have a proper nap.

She pulled the curtains shut, and resolved that, upon waking, she would go out to make some purchases. She could do with some clothing, and perhaps a watch, too.

Maia snuggled in under the thick blankets and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Maia woke slowly, staying huddled in the warmth and keeping her eyes shut as she drifted into awareness. Her aches and pains felt soothed by the warm layer of wool and cotton covering her and the soft mattress beneath her back.

Maia cracked open her eyes, taking in the golden beam of light that peeked from between the curtains. A small, contented sigh escaped as she sat up in bed.

The rest had done her wonders. Maia redressed in her old clothes, brushing off the mild disgust, and went to the window. She spread the curtains to find the sun sitting lower in the sky.

A trip to the bathroom found her a clean linen hand towel, and Maia dabbed gently at her head until the cloth was dyed pink, and her hair was free of crusted blood. It probably wasn't clean, but whatever remained blended in with the natural copper of her hair.

She regretfully rinsed the linen in cold water and left it to soak, hoping the stains wouldn't be permanent.

Maia took the stack of cenz she had left on the bedside table and combined them with what remained in her wallet. A careful count told her that she had 465,500 cenz remaining, in bills and one 500-cen coin. She returned some to her wallet, and deposited an even 450,000 under the mattress, as far in as she could reach.

She emptied her leather bag under the bed, took her room key, and departed with her bag empty but for her wallet and key.

The innkeeper referred her to a nearby clothing store, and Maia set out in its direction.

The sign for the clothing store caught her eye, and in she went.

Maia browsed, first seeking out underclothes, and tucking several sets under her arm. She quickly found a simple outfit as well. She selected a light grey t-shirt paired with black slacks, and grabbed three of each, draping them over her unoccupied arm.

The cashier folded the clothing and wrapped it in paper for her, while Maia counted out the cenz. She stuffed the small mound into her bag and asked after someplace to purchase a watch for cheap.

The man directed her to a watchmaker down the block.

On Maia's arrival, she requested the cheapest watch and chain he could sell her.

He swiftly obliged, supplying her with a simple brass pocket watch coupled with a thin, dull chain. Maia exchanged the appropriate niceties with the man before making her way back to the inn with her new purchases.

The innkeeper nodded at her on her way in, and Maia made her way upstairs for a proper bath.

She was extremely grateful for the opportunity to fully wash the blood from her hair, and the stains of dirt from her skin. She took extra care with cleaning the road rash and left it exposed to the air while she settled in the water for a soak.

The bathwater was dirty and cold when she got out, and Maia felt slightly repulsed when she properly looked down at it.  
Sitting in one's own filth was never appealing, but she supposed she was lucky to have been able to bathe at all.

Maia dried herself off with scratchy linen and changed into her new shirt and underclothes.

She looked to her cardigan, finding that its condition was no worse for wear, and better yet, it didn't smell. The inn was warm with summer air, so she decided against wearing it, but was glad for its condition.

Maia sat before the mirror and ever-carefully brushed her hair, especially minding her head wound, then tied it back into a low ponytail.

When she finished, she rubbed at the absence of her ring and moved to settle in at the small desk in her room to plan out what to do about Nina.

Maia wasn't even certain the girl was alive.

She supposed, then, she ought to determine that first.

She fished her notebook out from under the bed and studied the timeline. If she had the course of events recorded correctly, the Elrics would visit Liore, and then Youswell before meeting Shou Tucker.

Maia thought that tomorrow, she might ask around about the Fullmetal Alchemist, see if he was yet hailed as "the Alchemist of the People" here in the East.

If not, she supposed she could take a train out to Youswell herself and see if Yoki was still in power, and then return to East City and make her plans.

One thing she remembered about the day of Nina's death was the downpouring rain. She thought back to that confrontation with Mustang on the steps of HQ, Ed screaming about powerlessness, with the weather perfect to match the mood.

She wondered if they could predict weather accurately yet, in Amestris, 1914. She could ask people whether they knew if it would rain soon.

Maia didn't want to think about asking whether there had already been a storm.

Well, no matter. Tomorrow, she would go out, ask her questions, and if fortune smiled on her, she'd get a train ticket to Youswell.

Even more hopefully, she would be able to get a roundtrip ticket returning the same day she left. Maia in no way looked forward to spending another night on the street. She knew Youswell inns, financially crushed under the weight of Yoki's corruption, charged a hefty price for a night's stay. Even the Elrics, she recalled, couldn't afford the exorbitant cost. Maia didn't have any neat alchemy tricks to secure a nice discount, either.

Maia sighed, deciding to put the matter to rest for the time being, and make her inquiries in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

.VII.

* * *

26th August, 1914 - East City

When Maia woke, it was to a sharp pain in her side. She winced as she moved to sit up, clutching at it.

After a few moments of deep breathing, the pain subsided to a dull ache, and she pushed herself to her feet, only to be met with a wave of nausea, coupled with spots flooding her vision that forced her back down.

Maia thought back to the last time she had eaten, and drew a blank. Not yesterday, when she'd arrived in East City, nor the day before when she was in Central. Not on her last day in her own world - she had woken too late for breakfast, had forgotten her lunch, and been spirited away to an alternate universe before dinner.

Surely her brother had noticed her absence by now. She wondered whether he was worried. She wondered whether she might ever return.

She shook her head, forcing that train of thought out of her mind, and resolved to get something to eat.

A second attempt at standing, though, found her wanting to retch, and she immediately sat back down heavily. Her stomach turned at the thought of food. She swung her legs back onto the bed, and pulled her knees to her chest.

Sunlight filtered in at the edges of the curtains, setting the room aglow.

She felt weak, and defeated, and entirely unsure of herself. Half of her screamed at her to get up, battling with the part of her that prompted her to pull the blankets over her head and lay there until she was back home.

Giving into her better angels, Maia rose slowly. It was a series of small victories, eventually allowing her to arrive at a standing position without any dizziness overtaking her. She felt pathetic, but also quietly triumphant. She made it this far, at least.

She carefully prepared her things and dressed herself, committing to a day of activity.

The inn provided a nice breakfast, though Maia stuck to toast and water, wary of getting sick. She tucked an apple into her bag and got directions around town from the innkeeper before taking her leave.

Stepping out into the light of day brought a flare of pain behind her eyes, but she pressed forward, determined.

It didn't take her long to locate the newsstand, where she happily bought the morning paper from the attendant.

She took a seat on the bench just nearby and quickly scanned the paper for any mention of Scar, or of the Fullmetal Alchemist, but her search was fruitless. She wasn't all that sure about the military releasing information regarding Scar to the public, anyways. In any case, there was nothing about a maniac destroying the sewers or any other public property, so she moved on to reading the paper in earnest.

A couple minutes in, she came across a blurb about the drought afflicting East City, which prompted her to strike up a conversation with the newsman.

"Hi," she began with her friendliest smile, "I'm Maia. I'm new in town- just got in from Central last night."

He looked up. "New in town, huh? The name's Bill. What can I do for you?" he returned.

Maia stood and leaned against the stall. "Well, what better topic for small talk than the weather? East City is in the midst of a drought, then?"

He nodded. "You bet. Been weeks now since we've seen a drop of rain- rather unusual for these parts, mind you." Bill looked up at the sky as though inspecting it for any signs of cloud cover. "Seems to me the only rain we've had all summer has been light and short-lived."

Maia nodded, internally breathing a sigh of relief. "What a shame."

With the heavy downpour serving as her marker for the day of Nina's death, she optimistically took the news to mean that Nina was still okay, rather than that she was months too late to help her.

"Luckily it isn't too bad outside the city- the farmers are getting on just fine," he continued.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that at least." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Say, have you heard about that Fullmetal Alchemist guy?"

"Sure, sure. 'Alchemist of the People', right? Seems awful young to be a State Alchemist." Bill shook his head. "The military these days, I tell you…" he said lowly.

"No kidding." Maia leaned back. "You hear anything from that desert town up northeast lately? What was it… Liore?"

Bill paused, frowning. "Nope, not lately, anyway. Should I have?"

She waved her hand. "Ah, no. I just thought I might have heard about something going on up there. Anywho," she deflected, "what's the word around town? Anything newsworthy I won't find in the paper?"

"Couldn't tell you," he chuckled. "You might have better luck at the bar, talkin' to Anya- once she opens up, anyway." Bill tilted his head into the direction of the bar.

"Noted. Well, never hurts to ask. I'll be on my way, then. Thanks for the chat," she smiled, adjusting the strap on her bag, and turning away.

"Have a good one."

Maia waved as she walked off.

Having new information under her belt, she made for the train station to see about booking a ticket to Youswell.

* * *

There was a train to New Optain departing within the hour, and from there she could transfer to Youswell, and be back in East City before midnight.

Maia took a seat on the platform bench and withdrew her newspaper to finish reading.

Scoping out the classifieds, she found that there was a grocer not far from the inn that was looking for temporary work, and she made a mental note to check it out the next day. It wouldn't be too bad to have something to do, and extra funds never hurt.

Upon boarding the train, Maia found a delightfully empty car and settled in.

This was just a reconnaissance mission, but Maia was struck with the fact that she still had no plan for how to actually… deal with things.

Did she just march into East City Headquarters, demand to see someone in charge, and hotly inform them that Shou Tucker got his state certification with a human chimera. Then, without evidence, accuse him of planning to conduct the same experiment on his daughter?

It was a stupid idea, no doubt. There was no way a civilian like herself could get inside in the first place, and even if she could, she'd get thrown out on her ass once they heard her baseless accusations. With her luck, she'd probably get locked up.

Maia sighed deeply. She felt useless and entirely at a loss for what to do. She probably only had one shot at this, and if it failed, a five-year-old girl's blood was on her hands.

She _knew _what was coming. She had a duty to do something, _anything_.

She knew all about what was coming, for the next year, at least. Could she sit quietly in the shadows and just watch them die, as prescribed?

Could she handle that?

Blood-stained hands? The blood of Nina, of Hughes, of Fu, of Buccaneer, of all the Briggs men that would die defending Central Command Center from Wrath, of all the Central forces that would die attacking it? Countless more lives that she couldn't even recall?

Maia had accurate knowledge. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that all of those people would die without her interference.

If she did nothing with her foreknowledge, wasn't that just as bad as killing them herself?

And yet, if she used her foreknowledge the wrong way, if things got so twisted beyond recognition that the Dwarf in the Flask succeeded... could she handle hands stained with the blood of 50 million Amestrians?

If she sat back, didn't interfere, she knew that they would be safe.

Who was she to weigh in on this whole thing?

Maia trembled, her face in her hands. She felt trapped. She was scared.

She wasn't used to scared.


	8. Chapter 8

.VIII.

* * *

26th August, 1914 - Youswell

The whistle blared and the wheels screeched as the train pulled to a stop. Youswell- end of the line. Maia was the last passenger in her car. Its other inhabitants had quickly increased in number after her departure, but slowly dropped off at each stop as they neared Youswell, the final group having deboarded half an hour previous.

Maia didn't imagine there'd be anyone else to pick up upon the train's return this evening, but return it would.

She gathered the scarce belongings that made the trip with her and stepped out into the afternoon sun. The air was hot and heavy, and the town seemed deserted, what with the miners all being hard at work, she supposed.

It didn't take much exploring before Maia found what she believed to be the correct inn. There were a few others in town, and Halling's inn wasn't particularly distinctive, but when she came to a stop in front of it, it felt familiar, somehow.

The door creaked as she pushed it open to see Halling's wife tending to the inn. The woman seemed surprised to see an outsider, but not displeased as she called out to say hello.

"Afternoon," Maia smiled, raising a hand in greeting. "I'm Maia Carina; I just got in from East City."

"Lisa Halling. What can I do for you?"

"The train ride was a bit longer than I'm used to. Do you have anything on hand for lunch?"

Mrs. Halling obligingly listed the offerings, and Maia purchased a meal and took a seat.

When Mrs. Halling emerged from the kitchen, it was with two plates. "You don't mind if I take my lunch with you?"

"Not at all, please," Maia said, gesturing for the woman to join her.

"Say, what brings you to Youswell?" she asked.

"I suppose you don't get all that many visitors our here."

The hostess chuckled.

"Well, I'm doing a bit of an… investigation, as it were." At the narrowing of her eyes, Maia quickly continued. "I'm not with the military or anything. Just a curious soul. I'm sort of looking for someone."

Mrs. Halling had visibly relaxed, so Maia pressed on. "Would you mind answering some questions of mine?"

She paused, considering, before nodding and gesturing for Maia to continue.

"Great. Can you tell me who it is that owns the mine? And, perhaps, if there are any alchemists in town?"

"Sure, sure," the woman nodded again, "The mine is under the control of one Lieutenant Yoki." she said, distaste broadcast on her features. Her scowl deepened as she continued. "As for alchemists, yes. The honorable Lieutenant has a dog-in-training he uses to enforce tax collection. If you're looking for the help of an alchemist, I can't say she comes highly recommended," she said bitterly.

"This Yoki sounds like quite the character." Maia frowned, but inwardly she felt relief wash over her. The Elric brothers had not yet come to Youswell. She had confirmation that Nina was safe, for the time being.

"To be perfectly frank, he is a plague on this town. Our foul government's greed has bankrupted us all. Constantly, our taxes are raised, while our wages are lowered. You know, Youswell was never a particularly extravagant place, but we've never been destitute." She shook her head and turned her eyes to the table.

"I'm so sorry. That's really terrible. You have my sympathy." Maia offered sincerely.

Mrs. Halling looked back up and nodded. "In any case, you mentioned that you're looking for someone."

"Right. Well, I've heard some chatter here and there. People saying that things are changing out East. Just rumors, really, but apparently, there's someone going around. A sort of… friend to those in need."

"It's certain the world needs more of that, but I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. You won't find anything like that here. Sorry to disappoint."

"Not at all. You know, it seems Youswell is due its fair share of good fortune. Maybe the rumors will prove true right here."

Mrs. Halling chuckled. "You have a knack for optimism that's long since faded in myself. I could use a dose of that. Maybe you're right." She sighed. "Maybe things will change."

"Anyhow," Maia began. "I'd love to do anything I can to help. My train doesn't return until this evening. Perhaps you'll allow me to pass the time by lending a hand?"

Mrs. Halling brightened. "I'm sure I'm not too prideful to decline that offer." She grinned and collected her plate.

Maia did the same, and they set to work.

* * *

Hours had passed like minutes, and when the time came for Maia to depart, a friendship had been formed.

"Make sure you give the inn a call tomorrow morning so I know you're safely back in East City," Mrs. Halling said warmly.

"I will," Maia promised with a smile. "Things are going to change for you, Lisa. I'm sure of it." She patted the counter and waved farewell.

* * *

When her train arrived in East City, the sun hung low in the sky. Maia's pain had been muted- barely noticeable, even- while she was in Youswell. However, the reprieve had since fled and she was weak with pain.

She practically stumbled out of the train station, dizzy and aching. Tears gathered in her eyes as she pressed onward to the inn, her legs supporting her seemingly through sheer force of will.

Maia managed a terse greeting to a concerned-looking innkeeper, and upon reaching her room, she promptly collapsed onto the bed. She didn't bother to take her shoes off. Her bag slid to the floor with a dull thud as she curled in on herself atop the covers, clutching her side.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep took a long time to find her. When it did, it was not peaceful.

* * *

**Dear readers, it has been a bit more than a bit, and for this I am sorry.**

**I moved, and it was a heck of a hassle getting the internet set up. I'm sure you can imagine my pain at being without precious Wi-Fi for over a month.  
**

**(Also, I handwrote this chapter and it seemed _so long_ on paper. Ah, the disappointment.)**

**Hopefully, we'll get this back on track? It is not advisable to hold your breath.**


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